Find Me Alastar

I quickly get my phone out of my bag and text Brielle.All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

Phone fixed, are you okay?

I watch my phone. Hmm, no reply. I continue walking down the cobblestone street with Mark by my

side. Where exactly are we? I start to look around for a street sign or some indication of my coordinates.

“Over here.” I direct Mark and he follows silently.

I smile broadly and feeling rather proud of myself, stuff my phone back into my bag as I prance up the

street. The streets are old and rustic with cobblestones and London is everything I expected and then so

much more. Finally, I locate a street sign and break into a beaming grin. I researched this place when I

was back home and recall seeing this street name, I walk next to Mark down the street enjoying the

ambience.

My phone beeps, receiving a text from Brielle.

Oh my God. The kids hate me.

I hate them more!

I have gone to Hell with the devil himself.

I giggle and put my hand over my mouth in shock. Oh shit, what’s happened? I immediately text her

back.

Can you talk if I ring you?

My phone rings a few seconds later

“What happened?” I stammer as I hold my finger up to Mark to signify one minute.

I walk away from him so he can’t hear our conversation.

“Oh my God. I can’t talk long. The house is ridiculous,” she whispers.

I frown. “Ridiculous? What do you mean?”

“He’s rich… like, mega rich.”

Relief hits me. “That’s good. It’s better than crappy living arrangements, right?” “Yeah.”

“What about the kids?” I ask.

“Teenage daughter who constantly rolls her eyes and won’t talk to me, and the eight-year-old boy is

killing me with kindness.”

I smile. “How’s Julian Masters?”

She blows out a breath. “I don’t know. Cranky?” she whispers. “He showed me my room last night,

all the way from the door.” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t come into my room. He literally showed me the room from the door. He pointed where

everything was.”

“What?”

“I know, right? He’s a weirdo.” “Oh, jeez, Brielle. Are you safe?” This could be a disaster.

“He’s not scary, he’s just… different.”

“You mean he’s different because he’s male.”

“Exactly,” she whispers. “How is your apartment?”

“So much nicer than I expected. I met my roommates and they seem nice.”

“Oh, great. What have you been doing?”

I smile excitedly. “I love London. I have been shopping all day and looking around with Mark.” “How

is Mark?” she asks.

“Hmm, we need wine for that conversation.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but he’s definitely different to what I expected. We will dissect the pros and cons on

Saturday night. We are still going out aren’t we?”

“Yes, I can’t wait, and I’m sleeping at yours remember.”

“Oh, I miss you. Come and rescue me.” I smile as my eyes flick back to Mark sitting on a bench seat

as he waits.

“Is he really that bad?” she asks.

“No.” I hesitate. “I don’t know, maybe I was expecting different. It will work out. Glad to know you

are still alive, though.”

She laughs out loud. “Just.”

“I will ring you tonight.”

“Bye, babe.” She hangs up.

I bounce back to Mark, feeling more like myself, and we return to our shopping. The street is crowded

and eclectic, and it really does feel as though I’m in another country… which I am, so it makes sense. I

see a red phone box and I quickly take out my phone and snap a picture. Oh my God, I thought they only

existed in the movies. I smile to myself and I feel like screaming to the unnoticing crowd look a red phone

box. I watch all the busy, unenthusiastic people rushing from one place to the next, like ants in a nest.

Everyone has a job to do here and they are totally preoccupied with the task at hand. Are they all aware

how beautiful this place is or do they take it for granted? I suppose it’s fair to say that I tear around

Sydney with the same rush, rush, rush attitude and probably miss so much of my beautiful surroundings.

Along to the right of the street I come to a cobblestone laneway and I peer down the small road. At the

end I see a small antique shop with a sign hanging down over the door.

“Hmm, what’s down there? It looks interesting,” I ask Mark.

“Don’t know. Let’s check it out.”